Religeous experiences are overrated. As a general rule, I don't have time for them outside music. Food=religeous experience is not an equasion that I frequently use.
Four words: Raw. Milk. Baby. Swiss.
Even though it is considered illegal for humans to drink raw milk or to buy it for anything other than pet consumption, raw cheese is considered perfectly acceptable. This is a good thing, because without raw cheese, I would not be dancing for joy every time I opened up the refrigerator.
My mom is really into the whole raw thing, so I guess I shouldn't have been suprised when I walked downstairs to find ten to sixteen pounds of raw cheese on our dining room table. But I admit, I was suprised. I screamed. I wondered if my personal Mater Dei was going to be carted off to the Happy Valley Nut House.
When I tasted that cheese, I forgave her for startling me. I think I would have forgiven anybody anything just then. I had a religeous experience. The stuff is so creamy, so melt-in-your-mouth, so rich and velvety and lucious, that for a split second after you taste it, you think it cannot possible be cheese. It's got to be something other-worldly. Human hands and cows cannot possibly make any food so glorious.
Amazing, beautiful food.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
4 comments:
Maitre d'
Not mater d.
I have not ever tasted raw cheese, but I too have experienced the horror of the large blocks of cheese TAKING THE REFRIGERATOR BY STORM.
Enjoy your cheese.
(hee)
No, no, Mater Dei, as in Latin...Never mind.
I thought that you guys bought a big block of that Cheddar, though? Haven't you had any of that?
Not yet. I don't usually eat cheese on a regular basis, although now I'm going to try it.
Hee. How's your dad coping with all the raw cheese in the house?
Post a Comment